The Folsom Prison Blues

The Old Man has been to the jail a few times. Now before you raise a salacious eyebrow, I've not been a "resident", but rather visited often. While some of my relatives have been colorful, to the best of my knowledge none have ever been "guests of the town". My dad's uncle was a deputy sheriff and was the jail keeper. He and his family lived in the jail building as well, so when we got together it was usually in close proximity to the, as Miss Alma would call them, "jailbirds . In the picture, the entire front portion of the building contained the living quarters as well as the sheriff's office. You can just make out a rear section (with the curved window) that housed the actual jail portion. It connected to the living quarters by a steel door from the kitchen.Uncle Dillard and Aunt Della Shields (pronounced in our Bedford-accent-family as Unca Dillud & Ain't Della) were 'salt of the earth' people. My entire memory of them consists of laughter, good food, and family. They raised three children while living in the quite spacious living quarters, and we got together often. If a meal was involved, we were treated to standard country fare; fried chicken, steak and gravy, or country ham steaks with 3-5 vegetables and hot biscuits were pretty standard suppers. Now, the remarkable part of this was that since Ain't Della did all the cooking for the kept souls in the back, they ate like kings. She and Unca carried food back to the prisoners first, and then we all feasted.

When we were through the cobbler, they would round up the plates and trays. A couple of times they let me help.....creeped me out. They were mostly folks who were there due to fighting, cutting, moonshining, or general mischief. I can't recall even hearing of a murder or armed robbery. You could count on a population explosion on Sunday due to Saturday night frivolities.

Many of the residents claimed Taylor's Mountain as their home. This was a mountain a few miles outside of town with its own set of rules and guidelines; its own culture. I once worked for a local florist as a delivery driver. I headed up the mountain one Monday afternoon and as I progressed, heads peeped out from behind trees to see what I was about.

To give you a flavor of the times, from the late 1940's three entries in the book, "Historical Diary of Bedford, Virginia. USA From Ancient Times to U.S. Bicentennial" by Peter Viemeister speak volumes:

• "Three stills seized on Taylor's Mountain. Moonshiners escape."
• "Classified ad: 'Special Notice..Members of the Taylor's Mountain Sunday Afternoon Poker Club watch your step and be careful."
• "For the first time, Taylor's Mountain children can attend high school, but only in good weather. Citizens improve the road that is impassable to school buses. Now W. A. Parker using truck to take 18-20 youths to a school bus station. Unless weather is bad."

Folks there were born tough and grew up tougher, so it was no wonder that some were "Dillard's Dinner Guests" from time to time.

I haven't been back to that area for a long time. Quite possibly some hot-shot real estate developer may have turned Taylor's Mountain into an upscale refuge from the evils of the big city. In a way, I hope that I am wrong. Some trees just lend themselves to being peeped out from behind.